THE THIEF OF KALIMAR (Graham Diamond's Arabian Nights Adventures) Read Online Free PDF

then the reward for returning it should make us rich.”
    “Return it?”
    “Why not? Its owner would certainly be most grateful—”
    “Ah, Mariana, you’re dreaming again. But never mind. Tomorrow we’ll see what to do.” He blew out the candle and tucked the scimitar under the pillow. Then he pulled the dancing girl close and pressed his lips to hers. Mariana squealed with pleasure in his embrace, offered no resistance when his hand loosened the string of her nightgown and slid it to the floor. She closed her eyes and forgot about the harsh world outside. She was his; he was hers. For tonight that was more than enough. And then she smiled, knowing that the golden scimitar would change their lives forever—and make all of her foolish girl’s dreams come true.
    2
    The starry black sky changed slowly to indigo as dawn crept its way across the horizon, then the winter sun itself flamed into sight, to warm Kalimar from the inland sea in the east all the way to the nameless ocean that swept endlessly in the west.
    As always, it was the tall golden spires of the city that first caught the light, slanting morning shadows across the domes and temples, along the high walls, and to the citadel of the palace itself. Hooded priests with faces aglow in crimson took their places in the minarets and cried from tower to tower, in prayer, the coming of the new day. And life in the city began to stir. Golden rays poured across the brightly colored roofs of slate, filtering down unevenly into nooks and crannies and all the darkest places, nudging beneath tightly locked shutters and doors, creeping into ten thousand bedrooms like a herald to announce the day’s arrival.
    The faint haze that had come with dawn quickly disappeared and in its place the soft heat shimmered and danced against cobble and flagstone, touching softly in the alleys and byways, bursting in splendor along the old, weaving roads that led to each of the Nine Gates of Kalimar.
    The city was awake, from the plazas and the bazaars to the busy port where a dozen ships stood ready to berth and un-load their wares. Only in the quarter called the Jandari did the streets remain silent. Only there did the stalls and shops remain tightly locked. Beggars, who had lined the pavements only hours before, now hid from the light in doorways and alleys, replaced in the gutters by stray cats and prowling dogs seeking their meals among the heaps of rotting garbage discarded the night before.
    But not everyone slept; there were some who stayed awake plotting and scheming their plans for the coming night, while others dared not sleep. Each sound from below sent them scurrying to the windows with hearts beating like drums and wary eyes in search of marching soldiers come to drag them from their beds.
    There were many reasons not to sleep, but on this morning none had better than the thief and the dancing girl. Their business could not wait until dark. Under prying unseen eyes they stealthily made their way along the Avenue of Pigs and paused only when they reached the iron-braced door of Oro’s shop.
    While Ramagar looked up and down the avenue, Mariana knocked. A tiny slit was quickly pulled aside, and two beady eyes peered out. It took only a moment until recognition flickered and Mariana could hear the unbolting of locks. The door creaked as it opened to reveal a small man with hunched shoulders and a slight hump. His face was lined and creased, though not so much with age as with memories of a lifetime of bitterness. Deformed at birth, he grew up hating the laughter of other children. In later years the envy of other, stronger, men twisted his mind until he knew only rage for the world around him. But Oro was a cunning man, and in the dirty streets of the Jandari, where cunning was king, he had become a feared and respected figure. And no one dared to laugh.
    Oro shaded his eyes from the light and looked greedily at the shapely girl before shifting his glance to the thief. He hid a